Erik Lensherr is Not a Romantic
by deathbysharpie
Summary: "My friend, every time you've seen me within the past week, you've loudly projected a terribly boring steel wall, so I can only conclude that either you find me dreadfully boring, or you've taken a sudden, avid interest in 20th century architecture."


**Huuum so. This is my current OTP. I just facking love these two soooo much, heart heart. I saw X-Men: First Class a while ago, actually, loved this pairing, left it for a while, and came back with a rampant fangirl heart. **

**Also to my regular followers, I'm not abandoning my Spamano fic, I just really, really needed to get this fic out of my head. (:**

**So here is some Cherik smuff (fluff&smutt) completely angst free! (well, almost.)**

**Also, un-betaed (as per my usual) so please excuse minor grammatical errors.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Erik Lensherr was a man—to say the least—who believed himself to be composed entirely of metal. His steely gaze that struck fear into the hearts of lesser men, his emotional detachment and ability for ruthless slaughter, and not to mention his impressive build and height attributed to this slightly arrogant self-assessment. Even when was not committing unspeakable crimes that were against more than a couple of laws, he always had a knack for distancing himself emotionally, and that came in handy a multitude of times when he needed to think clearly and logically. It was also, undeniably, a method of protection. Anyone who knew Erik well enough and knew his past—which was a very small few—understood this unwillingness to be close with anyone, and surely didn't blame him. It made sense that someone who had seen their mother shot in the head at the age of thirteen would be somewhat withdrawn, if not outright sociopathic. Erik had hardly ever desired companionship, and easily recoiled from the thought of some sort of proper relationship. Well, up until recently.<p>

At first he thought that he might've been ill. He really couldn't explain the strange tugging in his chest and prickles in his skin accompanied with dizziness, and attributed these physical symptoms to some sort of minor illness, later that same day announcing to the Xavier manor in whole that he had meningitis, and proceeding to calmly return to his room and sleep for seven hours, at which point a very angry Charles had strode in, declaring the obvious truth that he "knows you don't have meningitis, you liar."

Damn that Charles Xavier.

Damn him to Hell.

The realization had begun to sink in a few weeks after Erik's recognition of his 'symptoms' which seemed to happen an awful lot around Charles, or when he thought of Charles, which he realized, embarrassingly, he did quite often.

At first, after the initial apathy towards his physical reactions, Erik felt, above all else, annoyance. Just a little trickle, like a stinging drop of perspiration running down his forehead and into his eyes as he ran. This annoyance increased into frustration and then downright anger in practically no time at all. After all, Erik had never really been a patient man.

He was certainly aware enough of his…_condition _to realize how frequently it happened around Charles, and when musing one early morning in the kitchen on this topic, came to the rash conclusion that Charles was purposely fucking with him, somehow sending out telepathic signals that increased Erik's perception; that could be the only explanation for why Erik had so recently been noticing how very, very big and enticing and bright Charles' electric-blue eyes were, and how delicate and amazingly _red _his lips were, and similarly how Erik's eyes were drawn to those lips so often, his heartbeat inexplicably speeding as he watched a pink tongue drag across the bottom one or pearly whites biting into the plump flesh.

And so, in a sort of manic and very much uncalled for scurry out the door, Erik had bounded down to a tree in the massive expanse of greenery outside the manor where Charles was currently situated, reading a book. He looked up at Erik far before the other man had reached him, and sent out a gentle, questioning probe into the other's mind as he watched, somewhat disquieted, as his good friend raced down the hill towards him.

Erik felt Charles enter into his mind, but thought nothing in response, only snarling at the concerned intrusion and surely sending a manic and ferocious vibe back towards the slightly smaller man, if the worried look on his face was any indication.

"What is it, Erik?" Charles questioned as soon as the taller man was in hearing distance.

"Oh, you know, you know Charles!" Erik half shouted, pacing around the seated man and running his hands through his hair.

He looked a damned mess and he knew it, but that was all Charles' fault anyway.

"No, I really don't," Charles started, a small smile forming in the corners of his mouth as his eyes calmly followed his hysterical friend. "But if you're not going to use proper words to tell me, then I can just as easily figure it out on my own…"

Erik panicked, suddenly recalling all his recent thoughts and observations of Charles—things he really didn't want on the forefront of his mind as he felt the former beginning to enter his mind.

"Charles, DON'T!" he suddenly yelped, reaching towards the blue-eyed man abruptly as if that would somehow physically sever the mental link.

It _did _however, along with his loud shout, manage to startle Charles as he fell back against the tree trunk, a somewhat bewildered expression marring his perfect features as he waited for an explanation.

"Just, don't, okay? Stay out of my head right now." As Erik spoke the words, he remembered why he'd originally come and his brow furrowed.

"What are you doing to me? Some sort of telepathic-" Erik flailed his arms wildly around his head, returning to stalking around the tree. "mind-trick thing?"

Charles arched a single, thin eyebrow at Erik, clearly amused at his friend's ranting.

"I can assure you, I am-" Charles started, but was cut off by a faceful of angry, flailing Erik.

"No, no, no, no, NO! You're putting stuff, thoughts in my...m-my head, you're screwing around with it, as some sort of funny joke, dammit! Increasing my…my perception, and…and…"

Erik lapsed into silence, actually listening to himself speak for the first time since he'd emerged from the manor, and suddenly realized what an utter moron he sounded like.

Charles sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, clearly trying hard not to laugh, and when that didn't work he shielded his mouth with his hand, blue eyes shining with delight and amusement.

Erik's elevated arms fell weakly at his sides, and he straightened up, coughing slightly in embarrassment.

"I think I might need some more sleep." He finally muttered, avoiding Charles' gaze as he began to trudge back up to the manor.

"I think that might be a good idea, my friend," Charles' replied, his voice bright and bemused as he called after the mortified man.

Soon afterwards, Erik decided to abandon the ideas of interrogating Charles.

He became presently aware of his fixation—yes, that's what it was, a _fixation _—with Charles, and found himself, the bold, crass, and quite nearly fearless Erik Lensherr, _shying _away from spending time with his good friend. It gave him more time to think, and he soon realized that that wasn't necessarily a good thing, considering the more time he spent away from Charles, the more he thought about the bastard.

And of course, his avoiding Charles hardly went unnoticed by the man himself, who sorely missed his chess partner, not to mention having _someone _near him while he trained to take his mind off the actual aspect of _training. _

Erik was constantly on edge, always looking around corners to make sure Charles wasn't near before he let his mind wander—not that distance, especially just that of the manor was enough to make telepathist's abilities dwindle, but it would mean that he was less likely the skim the thoughts of someone near him if they were out of sight, out of mind.

Erik wouldn't deny that he had always found the man attractive; he doubted anyone could, even from a non-biased stance. Because once one knew the professor, it was hard not to fall in love. With his personality of course. In a completely platonic matter, Erik assured himself, although he knew that was a big, fat lie. He found himself getting butterflies—fucking BUTTERFLIES, for God's sake—when he thought about the man, with his beautiful smile and bright eyes and red lips and dark, soft hair, which he had encountered more than once when ruffling his friend's hair affectionately. Sometimes as he lay in bed at night, his mind mercilessly produced images of a shirtless Charles, from here or there when they had been swimming or Charles had been changing in front of him. They were images stored in his mind, and he was horrified when he found them popping into his head without warning; Charles could easily pick up on them now that Erik's mind felt like it was practically screaming about his lust for the other man.

And yes…he knew now, it was lust. Erik may have been emotionally handicapped, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew what…_aroused _him. This was part of the reason he had been avoiding Charles like the plague; just one little glimpse of one of Erik's errant and sex-fueled thoughts and he was done for.

They hadn't had a proper conversation for about a week, until Charles became fed up and knocked on Erik's door one evening.

_May I come in? _he projected, already turning the door handle.

Erik was sitting on his bed, and couldn't think of a good reason to turn his friend away, so he simply called out in affirmation as the young man walked into the small room.

"Fancy a game of chess?" Charles asked, grinning widely as he plopped down in Erik's desk chair.

"Mm…Maybe another time. I'm pretty tired tonight, Charles."

Erik stared at his hands, playing with a small piece of string on the comforter. Charles' exasperated sigh did not go unnoticed.

"Uh huh." Charles commented, a deadpan stare accompanying his words. "And every other night this week? Have you been tired for all those as well?"

Erik shot him a glare, his arms folding across his chest defensively.

"Actually, yes, Charles."

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair and then getting up to go lean against the doorframe.

Erik ignored his slender form stretched out against the mahogany wood and the way his disheveled white dress shirt, already slightly un-tucked, rode up just the smallest bit to reveal a little bit of pale hipbone. Or at least, he tried to.

"Come on, then. I know something's on your mind," Charles started, his brow furrowing and bottom lip jutting out in an adorable pout. "But of course I won't delve any further than that, you know."

Erik simply nodded at the wall, clenching his teeth slightly inside of his mouth.

"Now, I would be very much obliged if you would join me for a game of chess," Charles announced, more of a demand than a polite request. "Your presence is sorely missed, my friend."

The almost mischievous grin that accompanied Charles' words was too much for Erik to handle, and he caved.

Over the next week Erik knew that he had to come up with some kind of defense, as silly as it sounded. He didn't want Charles to become too concerned, and since he hadn't really every been quite so…_infatuated _with anyone before, he attributed it to all the emotional stress he had been blocking that was building up inside of him, and thus decided that it would go away soon, but he needed to find a way to temporarily shield his screaming, smitten thoughts from his telepathic friend.

He knew it wouldn't be Charles' fault if he picked up on some of these; Charles didn't need to delve into someone's mind to catch errant thoughts floating around on the surface, often he overheard them on accident, and it would be especially easy if those thoughts were as prominent and insistent as Erik's were. Erik came up with an easy—if not somewhat silly—solution to this problem. Every time he was around Charles, or, at least when he was thinking a bit too much about the man, he picture a dull, steel wall. Nothing special, just a faded, metallic wall, humming with that familiar buzz that all metal gave off to Erik. He knew it wouldn't stop Charles from gaining access to Erik's mind if he really wanted to, but he had promised Erik, and it would at least give him something to think about other than his recent fantasies when he was around Charles.

And so, the next week or so proceeded with him doing just that; during training, breakfast, lunch, dinner, downtime, and of course, their daily dosage of chess and wine, (Erik began to realize they did spend quite a lot of time together) Erik pictured that wonderfully bleak steel wall the second Charles came into view. He did not, however, fail to notice how Charles' expression gradually changed throughout the week from amused, to slightly confused, to frustrated, until he finally heaved a rather dramatic sigh one night as they were playing chess, crossing his arms as he leaned back, one eyebrow halfway up his forehead in an expression of skepticism.

"Erik," Charles stated flatly, his nails tapping softly against the ivory pawn resting in his hand.

"Charles."

Erik looked up at him expectantly, his eyebrow similar to Charles' in position.

"My friend," Charles began, "every time that you've seen me within the past week, you've loudly projected a terribly boring steel wall, and so I can only conclude that either you find me dreadfully boring, or you've taken a sudden, avid interest in 20th century architecture."

Erik swallowed ever so slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably in his throat.

"Just an exercise in self-control, Charles," Erik finally muttered after a pregnant silence between the two.

He could feel Charles' intense, blue eyes boring into him as he sat there silently, staring at the floor.

_There are just some things you needn't know. _Erik thought silently, realizing half a second later that Charles probably heard it.

"Yes, and there are some things that I do need to know," he replied dryly, confirming Erik's suspicions. "You are worrying me, my friend. I've never seen you quite so…secluded. And I know, very well, that you are quite the secluded person already."

Erik chuckled slightly despite himself.

After a few moments, he leaned across the small table between them, pursing his lips in thought before slowly trailing his eyes up to meet Charles' half-concerned, half-bemused ones.

"Not this," he uttered quietly and calmly, a small, bitter smile curling up the corner of his mouth.

Charles had leaned forward as well, his face mere inches from Erik's as he placed an intentionally comforting hand on the other man's forearm, his intense blue eyes searching Erik's for answers, pleading for them—and he could, of course, attain them easily, but everyone—including Erik—knew that Charles was a man who kept his word, and wouldn't invade Erik's mind, even if he desperately wanted to.

Erik felt his strong steel wall begin to give, panic surging through him as he imagined it beginning to form a fissure right down the middle. Panic, though, was something that Charles could easily pick up, and in response the young man squeezed Erik's arm gently, running his thumb along the skin soothingly and bring the other one to rest on the nape of his friend's neck as he stared into his eyes.

"I've told you before, Erik, and I'll tell you again. _You are not alone._"

And with that, the mighty steel wall of Erik Lensherr came crumbling down like a house of cards, perhaps due to the warm and supple hands on his neck and forearm, or the beautiful, shockingly blue eyes that stared into his, or perhaps, even, very simply the _presence _of that warm, wonderful, body so unbearable and tortuously close to his own.

He closed his eyes and felt a huge breath leave his body, realizing with dismay what was happening, but not knowing if there was really any way to stop the thoughts and memories that were now racing to the forefront of his mind at an unstoppable speed, vowing to thoroughly ruin his relationship with Charles. And there they were indeed—all the thoughts, all the fantasies he'd had of Charles in the past few weeks; present were memories that played like film, him staring adoringly at his companion, small smiles and gentle touches that perhaps lasted a little too long. Thoughts, concerns, feelings, want, _desire_, and the scariest of them all, the one Erik had refused to admit, _love,_ came streaming out into the open without any restraint.

Erik was presently aware of Charles' extremely tightened grip on his body, and the gasp that the slightly smaller man emitted. In response Erik only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, dipping his head in shame and holding his breath.

After a few moments he felt Charles' grip loosen, and then his hands eventually dropped away, leaving a ghost of surging heat where they had been.

"Erik?" Charles called softly to the other.

Mustering up the most of his courage, Erik opened his eyes slowly, looking guiltily up into his friend's, wringing his hands together nervously.

He was surprised to see that they were sparkling with—something, Erik couldn't quite tell, but hoped that he was mistaken in thinking that Charles was about to laugh.

He wasn't.

Charles chuckled, biting into his bottom lip.

"So, it's true then? I had my suspicions," Charles commented tranquilly, a large and almost impish grin spread across his face.

Erik felt his face heat up at Charles' words (because Erik Lensherr did NOT blush) and stood up angrily, toppling some of the chest pieces over in his haste.

"I'm very sorry that you had to see all of…_that_. And I'll have you know I had no intention of acting on my feelings. But I hardly think it's appropriate to _laugh _at me Charles, especially since you're the one who just _had _to keep poking and prodding around my private business," Erik sneered, ripping his jacket up from the chair he'd been situated in.

Charles' eyes followed him curiously, before his jumped up himself, grabbing the other man's arm.

"I'm sorry, my friend, I didn't mean to upset you. I wasn't really laughing so much at you, as I was at myself," Charles paused, and Erik stared at him, looking slightly less offended but still on edge, obviously only allotting Charles a few more seconds to explain himself. "You see, I've had this sort of, infatuation with you since quite soon after we'd met, and it has been growing since then and I must admit, my dear Erik, that I am quite utterly and totally head over heels for you."

At first Erik just stared unbelievingly at his friend, who had calmly, and in a very teacher-like fashion, just explained his mutual love for the man who fantasized about him daily.

"And it's quite comforting and reassuring to know that you feel the same way," Charles added as an afterthought, biting on his very, very red bottom lip in contemplation.

_Too close. _Erik thought, staring at the gorgeous man in front of him, his senses overrun with utter elation, and his instincts taking over. _Too close._

For a moment Erik saw Charles' expression falter, as if he was suddenly worried, and began to ask Erik if something was wrong, until his was cut off by lips shoved roughly against his in a far-from-chaste kiss.

Erik couldn't control himself, throwing all of his desperation and longing into the contact as he wrapped his arms possessively around Charles, one resting on the curve of his lower back and the other wrapped around his neck. He could feel Charles slightly trembling beneath him, his hands gripping hesitantly at the front of Erik's shirt before gaining confidence and slowly dragging up the sides of his face to thread through his hair.

Erik let out a small noise of appreciating at the able fingers threading through his hair, pulling Charles' body flush against his own and tilting his head further into the furious kiss, which had become all teeth and lips and tongue.

Charles whined slightly into the kiss, fisting some of Erik's orderly hair, and the action and sound went straight down to the latter's dick. Erik realized with dismay that he was already half-hard, and pulled back for breath, staring down at Charles' adorably flushed face as he looked up, almost shyly, at Erik.

He offered a crooked smile, biting his lip mischievously as he glanced up at Erik.

"Well, you certainly don't waste any time," he laughed, running his hands through the taller man's hair once more.

"I've wasted too much already," Erik replied, eyes softening for a moment before he kissed Charles again, slowly this time, and swallowed a moan as he felt the man squirm and writhe beneath him, breath coming out in short little pants.

Erik stared down hungrily at his face, noticing the dilated pupils and the messy hair and chuckling slightly, despite the shiver of desire that ran down his spine. Before Charles could ask indignantly about his small laugh, Erik had his face buried in the soft crook of his neck, kissing and biting gently. Charles let his head fall back and his eyes slip close, his hands traveling downwards to fist at Erik's shirt as he released a breathy moan. Erik licked a slow and tortuous line up the column of his throat in response, one of his hands flattening against Charles' chest and slowly traveling south.

Charles' eyes fluttered as the abuse on his neck continued, and yelped slightly when Erik bit down on his collarbone. He was about to berate the taller man for leaving marks when Erik's hand reached its destination, flattening and flexing over the slightly bulge in the front of Charles' trousers, causing the other man to whimper unabashedly and rock his hips into the other's warm hand, head tipping back in need.

And that, as it turned out, was a little bit too close to Erik's fantasy for him to retain any more sanity, and it showed as he gasped slightly, shoving Charles back into the bookcase close behind them, pushing their bodies as intimately close together as he could, and giving Charles' clothed cock a firm squeeze.

Charles writhed underneath him, a blush spreading up his neck and across his cheeks, but his eyes remained wild and intense, and he attempted to right himself, clearly not pleased with his lapse of dignified control under Erik's touches.

"Good lord, Erik!" he finally managed through gritted teeth as the man in question kissed lightly along his jawbone and the shell of his ear. "Let's not break the furniture."

Erik could sense the humor in Charles' voice, and smiled himself, chuckling lowly in the professor's ear, "I plan on breaking a great deal of it tonight, Charles. At least once in each location."

He felt Charles shudder underneath him and pulled back victoriously, staring at the smaller man with lust-filled eyes.

Charles' cheeks were highly flushed at this point, his lips red and his neck dotted with bruises and hickies, but his eyes remained obstinately locked with Erik's.

"Then do it." He whispered, slipping his hands-which had traveled significantly lower on Erik's back—underneath the hem of his polo, deft fingers exploring the searing skin beneath.

After that it was a frantic, graceless flurry of ripping off clothing—Charles was not happy when Erik destroyed his shirt by ripping it open, and buttons flew everywhere—and when they had finally reached skin on skin, both of them naked and leaning heavily against Charles' cherished bookcase, they both let out a sigh of relief.

Erik immediately rutted against him, both men letting out guttural groans of pleasure as their bare groins rubbed together, creating a delicious friction that neither could deny. Charles hooked a leg around Erik's waist, wrapping his arms securely around the other's neck and staring very seriously at him in a way that almost made Erik laugh, as if he were about to make a business transaction of some sort. None-the-less Erik grabbed his soft thigh, securing it well against his hip before gently pulling up the other. Charles clenched his legs tightly around the other in response, avoiding his gaze as he stared off to the side bashfully at his own submissiveness.

Erik didn't have any free hands, but decided to roll his hips forward to get Charles' attention, which worked supremely well as the shorter man moaned breathlessly, arching his back and jerking his hips forward the best he could in response. Erik grinned and leaned forward, kissing him soundly on the mouth as he began to rut into the other man rhythmically, exchanging moans between the two wet and desperate mouths.

Charles whined and when the two broke for air, he gestured for Erik to slow down.

"Ooh…not that this isn't absolutely lovely…but my back is rather sore, would you mind if we relocated to somewhere…a bit more comfortable?" Charles asked breathlessly, his eyes darting over to the loveseat he had previously been sitting on.

"Of course, darling," Erik cooed, causing Charles' face to turn an even dark shade of red as Erik carried him over to the loveseat, placing him down on the cushions and climbing atop him.

Erik stared down into those wonderfully blue eyes, so full of…trust and adoration, and felt his heart skip a beat as he reached out to brush some of Charles' errant strands of dark hair behind his ear.

"Perfection," he whispered, causing Charles to smile sheepishly and then look away, accompanied with a 'tch'.

"_Cheesy._" He replied with a grin, which Erik couldn't help but return.

Needless to say, he needn't ever think of steel barriers again when he saw Charles Xavier; he had much better mental images to conjure up now.

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><p><strong>Review! The Fassavoy Gods demand it! (and a goat sacrifice, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.)<strong>


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